


Drunken Road Trips and Family Bonding

by the_cowgirl_bookworm



Series: Guardians, Ravagers and Daddy Issues, Oh My! [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Father-Son Bonding Trip, Fix-it fic, Galaxy wide hangovers, Gen, Humor, Nova Prime is the only one who can hold her booze, Shitload of Ravagers, family bickering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_cowgirl_bookworm/pseuds/the_cowgirl_bookworm
Summary: While the galaxy celebrates not being obliterated by a jackass of a planet, Peter and Yondu come up with a plan, while extremely drunk, that should solidify their new parental bond. Road trip to Terra!Warning: Contains too much fluff, my attempts at keeping everyone in character, a Quill family reunion, and most of the Guardians getting lost while looking for Peter and Yondu, who neglected to tell anyone where they were headed.





	1. Celebrate Good Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebration, Kool and the Gang, 1980
> 
> (You could also sub in Shots! by LMFAO, but Celebration is some good 80's cheese, and that's what this franchise is based on)

Kraglin is telling the story for what has to be the tenth time, to the tenth different clan leader. "So I see Quill out there, holding Yondu and just bawling. I pulled them both in with the tractor beam and the kid starts crying even harder. The he grabs me!" Kraglin twisted his face, making a mockery of Peter's blubbery sobs. "'Is he dead? Come on, help me!' Kid runs back over to Yondu, who's just getting up, and tackles him down again. Wasn't until Yondu yelled at him to get off and hit him upside the head that he realized the captain wasn't dead!" This is met with a roar of laughter, and hundreds of drinks are raised the air, fifty different languages translating to one thing.

"To Yondu Udonta!"

Every bit of booze is downed, then more roars from the crowd for more booze, more music, more games, more stories. The Ravagers had been celebrating the near death of Yondu and his return to the Ravager fold for nigh on three days, and it was quickly looking to turn into three weeks with the way the news was spreading. Ravager ships were docked all around the galaxy, hundreds of planets filled with leather coated thieves and murderers, who has sworn off those aspects while they celebrated the return of one of their own.

Said returning one was currently sitting at a table above the pit that housed the vast majority of the bar. Surrounded by what he considered his family, Yondu was pounding drinks as fast as the rest of them, had already played ten games of Five Finger Filet with Stakar, the arrow occasionally wobbling as Yondu got drunker and drunker, his whistling slipping and threatening to remove one of Stakar's fingers. It was during the sixth game that a hush had fallen over the bar as a sleek suited Xandarian walked in, her bodyguards flanking her.

Nova Prime had walked calmly through the bar, right up to the makeshift dais. "Yondu Udonta, I am pleased to see you still among the living."

"And why's that, Irani?" Yondu had chuckled, tapering off into a whistle at the end which almost pierced Stakar's pinky.

"Xandar still owes you a great debt." She reached over and picked up whatever rot gut Yondu had been drinking. Sniffing, she downed it in one. The glass thudded back on the table. "And I do so hate when a debt goes unpaid."

Stakar smiled, patting the seat next to him. "I can think of a few ways you can repay it."

A guard immediately whipped his blaster at him. Nova Prime smiled. "Not likely Ogord. But paying for part of your revelry might be a start." She turned to the bar, raising her voice. "Tonight, your drinks are on the Nova Corps!" This is greeted with a yell, quickly followed by a drinking song about a Xandarian woman who had a hundred different partners and how she left one for the next until she had made her way through every species in the galaxy. At that, Nova Prime had joined the high table, and was currently matching Drax drink for drink.

Rocket had scampered up to a high place, drink clutched in one paw as he kept an eye on Groot who was running through the crowd as fast as his feet could carry him. The bartender had somehow managed to make something that a young Flora Colossus could drink. It was really just sugar water colored with different food coloring, but Groot was enjoying it as much as everyone else was enjoying their booze. For every different colored drink, he's sprout flowers and run around the bar passing them out.

Gamora and Nebula, were doing their equivalent of sisterly bonding, namely sparring so intensely that Yondu was surprised they hadn't broken any bones. They were on their third match, back to back as they fended off five mostly drunken Ravagers. Rule was that losers had to buy the winners drinks. 

Now Peter, he had barely left Yondu's side all night. Kept reaching over, brushing his fingers across Yondu's shoulder as he got another drink. He was doing it again when Yondu spun around and grabbed his fingers. Hard. "You doin' that again, boy?"

Peter plastered a dopey smile over his equally plastered face. "Can't still quite believe you're here." His eyes darkened. "Don't want to almost lose you again."

The Centaurian snorted. "Lot meaner things than your jackass of a father have gotten closer, now quit touchin' me." He jerked his coat back over himself, the quick movement dislodging Peter's fingers. 

Stakar chuckled. "Little family drama there, Udonta?"

"Shove it Ogord." He'd gone back to nursing his drink.

More Ravagers poured into the bar, already in a fine state of inebriation, and the sight of more of their kind only fueled those already here. Rocket ducked out when Groot fell off Nova Prime while braiding flowers into her hair, taking him to the rooms they'd rented before the massive party. Drax was currently passed out under the table, Nova Prime calmly speaking of the charms of Xandar and the honor in serving in the Nova Corps to one of the Ravager's better strategists, whose eyes were staring to drift away from Irani's face and towards the swell of her bust until one of the Xandarian bodyguards brought his blaster up to the table. At that, he suddenly straightened, listening intently. 

Nebula and Gamora were being paraded from bar to bar, defeating the top fighters in each clan. And Peter was still by Yondu, unwilling to leave his side. He had a glassy look to his face, occasionally reaching towards Yondu, but quickly pulling his hand back when the other man noticed. He spoke slowly, words slurred as he tried to get them out. "'M glad you ain't dead." He poked the blue man on the arm. "Wasss sssooo scared."

Yondu jerked his arm away. "Gods Quill, you were out there longer than me when we pulled yer ass back in."

"You allmmoossst died."

"So did you." Yondu glared at the Terran. "And did I sit there motherin' ya? No, I whupped yer ass like ya needed."

"You wan' me to kick your ass?" Peter slurred, looking like he could do little more than raise his head off his hand.

"No, I want ya to quit treatin' me like I'm gonna disappear on ya." Yondu tried shifting in his chair, almost upending himself.

Stakar was laughing from where his head rested on the table. "You two got issues."

Every single person in this bar had issues, it came with being part of the Ravagers.

He kept going. "My dad, when he got mad at me and after we settled it, he'd take me out somewhere. Hunting, fishing." Stakar rolled his eyes up, "Whoring, fighting. Stealing was his favorite. He once stole a whole cargo ship, got the crew shit faced and they gave him the key." He kept laughing, until he fell out of his chair and the laughs turned to snores.

Peter smiled. "There's fisshh back in Miss, Missis," he screwed his face up in concentration, "Miss-ou-ri. Terra."

"What, you want to go fishing?" Yondu sneered, feeling the alcohol roiling in his gut. He wasn't drunk enough to get all mushy on the two Quill's he was seeing, but he was getting there.

"Yeah, Gramps he showed me real good spots." He began to describe them, each description getting more and more vague as the drinks kept coming.

Yondu stayed quiet, until he'd drank about four more rounds. Most everyone else had passed out, which meant it wouldn't get out if he acted a little more fatherly towards the boy. 'Sides, a trip to Terra was only thirty jumps, wouldn't be that bad. "You really want to go back to Terra, boy?"

"Yesshhh."

"Keep your damn mouth shut and come on then." Yondu stood, almost fell, then almost fell again when Peter quickly attached himself to Yondu's side. They made their way out as best thy could, which meant they only tripped over five different people, kicked three out of the way, and interrupted one mating ritual. Quill was nearly asleep by the time they reached what was left of the Eclector, and Yondu wasn't far behind. He left the boy on the captain's bunk, and the last thing he remembered was inputing the coordinates for Terra into the autopilot, because at that point the floor was nice and cold and his coat made a good pillow.

Nova Prime watched the ship leave, a small smile on her face.


	2. There's  Stranger in My Bed, There's a Pounding In My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Friday Night, Katy Perry, 2010

When Rocket came back to the bar the next morning, a still sleepy Groot tucked into his vest, he found the Ravager horde in various states of unconsciousness. Kraglin seemed to be part of a spooning line, all the crews piling together. Drax was blinking blearily at Nova Prime, who was still at the table, surrounded by passed out Ravagers. A small pyramid of shot glasses had grown in front of her, a few shattering as Drax lifted himself off the ground. It took him a few tries to get his voice to work, and even then it still sounded like he'd been sucking on the Milano's exhaust fumes. "That should have killed you."

Irani glanced at the pile of empty glasses. "That was a regular weekend night for me. Well, twenty years ago, but you don't quite forget how to handle yourself."

"You're something else, lady." Rocket rolled his eyes, climbing up the table leg.

Groot turned over, saw his flowers still in Nova Prime's hair and immediately tried to disentangle himself to get at them. "I am Groot."

"No, you can't go finish braiding her hair."

"I am Groot."

"I don't care that it was only half done."

His little eyes started to water. "I am Groot."

"No, I am not being an asshole! You don't need to!"

Their argument was interrupted as Nova Prime reached over, gently placing Groot on her shoulders where he proceeded to begin sprouting more flowers. "I'd worry less about him and more about where the rest of your team is."

"Well Drax is here, hungover as shit. Mantis I made stay in the rooms, poor girl doesn't need her first night out to be around this bunch of drunken savages." He looked around. I think I saw Nebula passed out on the roof of someplace, last I heard of Gamora she was swinging from a chandelier."

There was a sudden movement as part of the spooning line shot straight up. Kraglin whipped his head around. "Cap'n?" 

He then proceeded to vomit, just, everywhere.

The spooning line promptly kicked Kraglin out, shifting to get away from his mess. He dragged himself over to their little group, only vomiting twice on the way over. He sat on the floor, a glazed look on his face. "Cap'n? Quill?"

"Ain't seen 'em." Rocket replied, looking out over the crowd. No massive red fin, no red hair. "Shit, where'd they go?"

"You check any other bars?" Kraglin tipped his head back, eyes sliding shut as he tried to block out the morning sun that seemed to be set to supernova.

"Nah, last place I remember seeing them was here." Rocket look at the door, which seemed to be getting farther away. Damn, guess he was more hungover than he thought. "They can take care of themselves. Quill's a big boy now. Plus, he's got his daddy with him." He chuckled, turning around. "His daddy, right?"

Kraglin had fallen back asleep, Drax had smashed the table and various glasses when he fell over, and Nova Prime was currently cradling a sleeping Groot. She smiled at him. "Once you've recovered, probably in a few weeks, I'll have the Nova Corps send you their last heading."

Rocket nodded, feeling himself slipping away.

The last thing he saw was Nova Prime's hair, which to be fair, looked absolutely stunning with all those flowers braided in.

* * *

 

This wasn't the first time Yondu has woken up not in his bed, not sure what system he was in, and not sure what had happened last night. He groaned, rolling over slightly. Some blue and green fucking planet outside, like he gave a shit. He looked up at the maze of pipes and wires on the ceiling, and his head was already beginning to pound. There were pills in his cabin, that was what he needed. It took a bit of maneuvering, and more than a little cursing, but he finally made it to the cabin door. All he had to do was swipe his thumb over a pad and it opened, revealing Quill splayed out all over his bed.

Now, this was not the first time he'd found the boy in his bed. Kid had nightmares something terrible when they'd first picked him up. May have had something to do with threatening to eat him every time he made a stupid mistake, but the kid had to know Yondu was joking about all that, right? First Quill'd tried sleeping in Kraglin's bed, but the Xandarian had kicked him out quick. Ravagers weren't the cuddly type as a rule, so the kid tried keeping to his bunk.

Then he'd fallen over in the mess line one morning, passed out.

Yondu had drug his ass back to his cabin, put him in his bed, and gone on with the rest of his day. When he'd come back, the little Terran had been sitting up, a blanket acting like a cloak over his head. Those watery eyes, his voice had been all wobbly. "Are you gonna kick me out? I'm sorry I can't sleep, I used to crawl in with my Mom, back before she got sick. I was just trying to sleep." Kid didn't make much sense, even when he wasn't bone tired.

Yondu smiled, remembering how he had pinched his nose and rolled his eyes. "One night." He'd said. "One night, and no snuggling shit." He got down on his knees in front of the kid, showing off his yaka arrow. "And you tell anyone, I'll gut you so fast you won't even feel it."

Of course, come morning the boy had slept the whole night through, and Yondu had wrapped his arms around him. 

It had happened on and off over the years, the boy just needing to feel like he wasn't alone on the ship. Wasn't like they didn't have any other humans, but they'd all been born out here. Quill still missed Terra, missed his family, friends, fucking pets and shit. That faded as he got older, until Quill watched one of his friends get shot down right in front of him after a raid gone wrong. Boy was only seventeen, and he'd already seen too many people die.

Yondu'd held him through the night, telling him how the galaxy ain't fair, it ain't gonna give you shit, you gotta take it and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Quill had blubbered. "But he was my friend."

He grabbed his ears at that, pressing his forehead to the younger man's. "You think I ain't lost friends out there?" He had swiped his hand out at the black space beyond. "You see me cryin'?"

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, because the crying had only gotten worse. Yondu had eventually had to grab Quill's Walkman, shoving the headphones over the kids ears. Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky" could be heard leaking out. Yondu hadn't said anything after that, merely wrapping an arm around him until Quill came to his own conclusion about the mysteries of life and death. Eventually they'd both fallen asleep, Yondu curled around the boy come morning. Shaking these memories away, Yondu walked over to the bed. Part of him wanted to push the boy out of bed, and a smaller part wanted to cover him in the kicked off blanket.

He compromised, pulling the blanket over the kid before pulling Quill's eyelid open. "You got five minutes to get your ass outta my bed."


	3. Earth Below Us, Drifting, Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Tom, Peter Schilling, 1982 (But I prefer the 2009 version by Shiny Toy Guns)

Since jettisoning most of the Eclector Yondu hadn't exactly had the chance to make a supply run. Hell, he was lucky there was a table, let alone chairs. So all there was left to eat was something that had molded in a forgotten refrigeration unit. He'd picked most of the mold off, and to be honest, it wasn't too bad. Quill had emerged from the cabin, sat down, vomited when he saw what Yondu was eating, and then collapsed onto the table. Yondu finished his impromptu meal, his headache fading already. "Where the hell's this place ya were goin' on about?"

"Missouri." Peter's voice was muffled against the table. "Ridgeton."

Yondu rummaged in his coat, pulling out a projector. Like most Ravager tech it had been cobbled together from spare parts, smashed, repaired, burned, and was currently being held together by a couple strategic pieces of adhesive and sheer force of will. Terra had been mapped out ages ago, and he waved his hand through the hologram, dismissing descriptions until he found the one he wanted. He considered the display in front of him, then pushed the projector towards Quill. "You find it."

Quill glanced up, brows furrowed in concentration. "That's France."

"You think I did much studyin' when I was pickin' ya up?"

"Kidnapping."

"Shut up and find whatever place you were talkin' 'bout."

Peter raised his head, fingers weaving through holograms until he had zoomed in on a large lake. "Here."

Yondu pressed a button, locking the display and coordinates. He tossed the projector back and forth as he made his way out of the mess. "Be in the hanger in ten."

"This thing has a hanger?"

Yondu gestured at the ship around them which, while smaller than the Eclector, was still substantial. "If'n I bring this thing down, yer whole planet would shit a brick."

"Ok, maybe you have a point." Peter replied, pulling himself off the table with a massive amount of effort. "But you have another ship on this thing?"

"Small one, ain't that useful. But it'll get us through the atmosphere." 

It took Quill a bit longer than ten minutes, closer to an hour, to get into the small fighter that had been stashed away in the hanger. By that point, Yondu was more than ready to get Quill back down to Terra by tying him to the hull and letting him reenter on the outside. The ride was a little tense to say the least. Yondu looked over from the window. "Why you actin' like you ain't ever drank before?"

Peter was only holding onto consciousness because he was about to see his home planet again. "Because I've gone out drinking with your friends."

"You've been drinkin' with Ravagers since you was sixteen. Kraglin drug you back from that dive back on Krante 4, said you only had two drinks 'fore you passed out." 

"There's a difference between that and three days of drinking!" Quill raised his voice, then blinked in pain before doing his best to huddle in his seat. "Is that usual? The week long party?"

Yondu watched the flames of reentry dissipate across the window. He gave a craggy smile. "Stakar and I pulled a job, back when I was first settin' out on my own. Went off without a hitch. Crews drank for ten days, racked up twenty thousand units in bounties, and we got chased out of every bar in the quadrant."

Peter shuddered. "Remind me to never go out with you guys again."

"Ah come on, boy. It's funner than sittin' in the Kyln." Yondu cracks a golden smile in bad need of orthodontia as the miniature M-ship get closer, the curve of the Earth disappearing, lines turning into rivers. The green patches that had been growing came farther into focus, turning into forests and farms. The coordinates from the projector map are over a series of low hills, a lake spread out, trees coming all the way to the edge. Yondu couldn't help but dive the ship towards the lake's surface, pulling up quickly and sending up a huge spray.

Quill gave a loud whoop as they pulled out of the dive, which quickly turned into a dry heave. But he didn't turn green, and nothing came up, so that was some improvement. There was a bit of a clearing near the edge of the lake, rocky soil unsuitable for trees. The ship settled down, hunkering down below the trees. Peter moved as quickly as he could, which meant Yondu only had to move at a brisk walk to catch up to the boy before he reached the ramp. Quill paused at the end, looking out over the lake. The reflection from the sun sent up a spray of light over his face, and Yondu dug his fingers into his palm to stop the happiness he was feeling from reaching his face. Couldn't show the boy that he was glad for him. Then Quill'd just start blubbering again, like when he'd gotten pulled back in from the space above Ego. A shadow crossed over his eyes. He'd hoped that Kraglin had been close by, it wasn't like he had a death wish. But he'd have accepted it. Long as the kid made it out, he'd have froze gladly. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes filling with a pride that he desperately wants to fight down.

Not that Peter noticed, too busy staring at a planet he never thought he would see again. He turned, grabbing Yondu in a hug that threatened to break the poor alien's ribs. His voice was thick, "Thank you."

Yondu allows him one more squeeze before struggling in the boy's grip. Usually he lets go, but now the boy just squeezes him tighter. It's like the boy got replaced with a Yutalian constrictor, getting tighter around Yondu and unwilling to let go, and sweet stars above, were those tears?

Sentiment, it would be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you guys so much for reading! I love seeing all your comments, they make me feel a little more inspired with each one!


	4. Got a World of Trouble On My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take It Easy, The Eagles, 1972

In the end Yondu'd had to whistle to get Quill to let him go. And then the boy was off like a plasma shot, running to the lake, splashing, then racing off into the trees. Yondu stepped off the ship, scuffing his boot through the soil. It was rocky, but loose. Alright to set the ship on, but if Quill had any ideas about sleeping on the ground he could damn well do it himself. There was a rustle in the trees as Peter crashed out of them, grinning like a maniac. "Everything's the same! Same trees, same water!" He laughed, jumping off a slight rise. "Gramps taught me to fish right over there!"

Yondu looked over, seeing a muddy patch of river bank. "He teach ya how to cook 'em? 'Cause the last time I let ya cook we had to disinfect the mess and space every pot we had."

Peter turned red, remembering how Yondu had threatened to put Quill in the next meal if he approached the kitchen again. That had been loudly seconded by the majority of the crew, along with various threats if Peter so much as looked at a stove. Peter looked around, trying to find enough rocks to ring a campfire. "Well, yeah. I mean it isn't that hard. Put 'em on sticks, put 'em over a fire." He wrinkled his brow. "Shit, we don't have any fishing gear."

"Gear?" 

"Yeah, poles, hooks, line."

Yondu gave a whistle, his arrow zipping up. "Boy, we got all the gear we need."

He whistled a trill, sending the arrow flying towards the water. It disappeared in a haze of mist, and Yondu smiled, imagining every fish that he took out was Taserface or any of the other mutineers. His arrow came scudding back to his hand, half a dozen fish floating in the lake, each pierced through an eye. "Alright boy, go get dinner."

Peter looked out at the lake. The closest fish had to be a hundred feet away. "You couldn't get 'em any closer?"

"You complain' that I got ya dinner?"

Quill stalked off, grumbling and shedding his shirt as he dove into the water. He looked back over his shoulder. "That's not how you fish, Yondu! We're doing it right tomorrow!"

* * *

After Stakar had recovered from his own hangover, then a laughing fit, he was more than willing to lend them an M-ship to chase after the wayward Guardians. Not that he was over concerned, still guffawing as Groot was passed from hand to hand into the ship. "I still don't understand why you're so concerned. Those two will be fine."

"We're a team." Kraglin muttered, hauling a load of guns up the ramp. 

"Yondu was still on my crew when he ran off the first time, came back a week later with enough jewels to pay off the bounty he'd acquired stealing them." Stakar smiled, remembering the young Centaurian finally coming into his own after weeks of adjusting to the Ravagers. "That was when I realized I'd found a good friend in him."

Rocket, dragging a bag bigger than himself, no doubt full of various bits and pieces that could be assembled rapidly into something deadly, shook his head. "Don't think I'll ever get used to you Ravagers and your weird ass bonding."

Stakar snorted. "What do you guys do? Group hug and braid flower chains?"

There was an audible gasp from Groot.

"Excepting you tree." Stakar picked at something, or someone, stuck in his teeth. "Just try to get the ship back in one piece, word around is you bunch have a habit of blowing 'em up." He stalked off down the gangway, only stopped when Mantis, escorted by Drax brushed against his arm.

Her feelers glowed. "He is concerned." She smiled. "For his friends, and for us."

Stakar glared. "If your empath touches me like that again, I'm stitching her feelers to her head."

Drax pressed Ogord against a railing. "If you touch Mantis I will use your skull as a drinking glass." The two men glared at each other, before Stakar roughly turned away, cursing under his breath. Drax practically dragged Mantis aboard the ship.

"Why was he angry?" Mantis asked as they walked towards the cockpit. "Concern and worry is understandable when friends are missing." 

"Ravagers refuse to discuss their emotions."

"Oh! Like Peter and Gamora." Mantis almost clapped her hands. "But acknowledging their emotions helps, don't they recognize that?"

"They are strange and foolish." Drax said with finality as the M-ship dropped down from the hanger. They both stumbled a bit before the thrusters kicked in. The moon they had been partying on began to recede, ringed by Ravager ships, and if there were a few Nova Corp ships mixed in, well, no one was going to make a big deal about it. Drax looked down at Rocket, currently downloading coordinates from Nova Prime's ship.

Rocket cursed as he pulled up the star chart. "Of friggin' course."

Gamora glanced over. "What did he do now?"

"Nothing major, only took a jump that could come out in twenty different spots." Rocket began typing rapidly along the chart input. "I can try and narrow it, but more than likely we're going to be searching through half the system before we find whatever jump they took after this one."

There was a great deal of cursing after that, which Groot tried to relieve by sprouting enough flowers to give to everyone. They all thanked him, except for Nebula who merely glared as the scared little tree dropped it in front of her. It took a pointed kick from Gamora before she grunted, "Thanks."

* * *

The fish were sizzling over the fire, juices dropping down and making the smoke smell heavenly. There wasn't much to season them with, but Peter had discovered that salt was a pretty universal concept out in the galaxy. Sure it came in different colors, threaded with different minerals, but salt could be had pretty much anywhere and Yondu had at least kept a stash in the small kitchen. Peter watches Yondu across the fire, which Yondu had started. After Peter had struggled with a flint for thirty minutes, Yondu had merely whistled a single piercing note that had lit his arrow on fire and lit their campfire in an instant.

Said fire starter was currently stripping the flesh from a fish with disturbing speed. He swallowed, then glanced across at him. "You said yer grandsire did this wit' ya?"

Peter chooses not to focus on the fact that Yondu is starting to build a little cabin from the fish bones. "Yeah, back before my mom got sick. Came here every year." He blinked, remembering how his mom had taught him how to spit a fish, how his grandpa had brought a tiny kayak and they'd paddled their way out to the middle of the lake and caught the biggest fish Peter'd ever seen. "Back before Ego fucked everything up."

Yondu looks as concerned as he can, which for him merely means the snarky asshole grin has vanished. "Ya never did say what when on down there."

Peter stayed quiet for awhile, thinking about Ego and exactly how screwed up everything had gotten. "Asshole killed my mom. Tried to get me to join him." He couldn't help the next bit. "'Join me and we will rule the galaxy!'"

"You glad he's dead?"

Peter grinned. "Yeah, I already got the best space dad a guy could ask for." He then cracked up as Yondu rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't roll right out of his skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you guys again for reading! It's so nice to hear from you! I know the updates are coming fast, but I've just got the writing bug right now!


	5. Please Tell Us Why You Had to Hide Away for So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Blue Sky, ELO, 1977

When Peter had shaken Yondu's shoulder early the next morning, saying he was going into town to pick up supplies, Yondu had sent him off with two rules before rolling over and going back to sleep. "Don't buy anything, yer still a Ravager idjit. And bring back some of what ever you Terrans got for booze, if yer gonna get soft again like last night I ain't goin' through it sober." Quill had rolled his eyes, pulling his Ravager coat over his shirt. It stood up to the elements, kept him warm, and had about fifty different pockets for stashing illegally obtained materials. Of course, not everything could fit in pockets, so he grabbed a collapsible repulsorlift and a Ravager tarp, modded to able to put up a decent camouflage.

While you couldn't count on Ravagers to have things like food or water on all their ships, they always had stealing supplies.

It was a ten mile trek to town, but it went quicker thanks to a few rocket boosted jumps. He stashed the lift at the edge of town, throwing the tarp over it, the camouflage activating as soon as it settled. The first thing Peter did was find a vending machine outside a gas station and shake loose a Coke. Even after twenty years, it still tasted the same. He tossed the can aside, jacked a full can, and set off farther into town. Ridgeton had always hovered between small town and small city, mom and pop stores right next to large sporting goods dealers. Peter approached one of those large sporting goods stores, the window displays stuffed full of hunting trophies.

It took him five seconds to jimmy the lock, then two to activate the jammer in his pocket. It would block any signals going out to security companies and render any security footage to mere static. Peter grabbed a cart, pulled out his earbuds, and set his Zune to play. He smiled, remembering how Yondu had shoved it into his hands before Stakar had come over to their ship, ready to welcome Yondu back after hearing about what he had done. Yondu had pressed the device into his hands, earbuds tangled around his fingers. "Saw ya lost yer Walkman. Found this at a junker's, she said everyone on Terra was usin' it." He'd hit the center button, the display lighting up. "We had a copy of yer music in the data banks, I transferred it for ya."

Peter had grasped it like a lifeline. "Well, not all of it. Ego smashed the second tape."

Yondu had snorted, shaking his head. "If you think we didn't scan and log every single thing in that little pack a yers," He just shook his head again. "It's all on there, plus about three hundred other songs."

Three hundred songs had left him speechless, as well as the fact that Yondu had actually done something kind for him without threatening to space him or eat him, when Stakar had grasped Yondu by the shoulders, making some proclamation about how Yondu had proven himself a true Ravager in the end, and if anyone wanted to dispute that, well, Stakar was one of the fastest draws in the galaxy and they were more than welcome to try.

Peter danced through the store, Mr. Blue Sky blasting in his ear drums, dragging a cart behind him. He threw in whatever he could find, high dollar fishing poles, hooks, line, enough camping supplies to last them a month. He made sure to grab two cans of bait, knowing Yondu might just eat a can of worms just because he was tired of fish. He even did his best to pick up gifts for everyone. For Drax, two massive serrated hunting knives. Gamora, a leather archery guard she could use to keep her sword hand from bleeding after getting blisters. As much as he wanted to, Rocket would probably not appreciate the stuffed raccoon, so he grabbed the little guy a collection of gun parts and candy. Turned out the raccoon had a sweet tooth, which they discovered after he had eaten every piece of Xandarian sugar puffs on the ship. Drax had almost strangled Rocket for that, stopped only by Gamora wanting to do it herself. He picked up a variety of animal plushes for Mantis, because God knows Ego hadn't given that girl enough things to hug in her life. Yondu was getting an absolutely adorable bobblehead of a mountain lion. Kraglin was getting a knife, the antler carved with a cool design. For Groot, a collection of these new fangled things called CD's that apparently held music. He thought Groot would really like one in particular, some band called Mouse Rat that sounded pretty good when he put it in a boom box.

For Nebula, well, he just picked her up some magazines. He didn't even really look at them as he dumped them in the cart. That was all the fishing stuff, but he would need more than that. He wanted enough Cokes to last him a life time, and enough ice cream that he could eat himself sick. Plus, what kind of camping didn't have s'mores? So before he pushed his ill gotten gains out of the shop, he opened the safe, which for someone used to cracking Kree lockboxes, was nothing. He pocketed the cash, then pushed his cart back to the repulsorlift. The futuristic wagon was pretty full, but he figured he could fit more in. 

But the grocery stores wouldn't be open for hours, so Peter left everything under the tarp and made his way back into town. He figured he'd find someplace to hang until the stores opened up. He was figuring a stoop or a park, but then he saw something called an Internet cafe. There were already a few people headed in, sleepy eyed and groggy. He walked in, and the smell of coffee overcame him. Turns out you could get coffee pretty much anywhere nowadays, if the people in front of him were to be believed, but apparently this place was pretty good. He ordered a large, with enough creamer in it to make it more like a hot chocolate than a coffee. He listened in to a couple of guys as he waited for his coffee.

"I'm telling you, I saw a UFO last night. Came blasting down over my trailer, then set down in the forest somewhere."

"Jerry you got into your moonshine again, and we all know it. You were going on about chemtrails the last time, and you smelled like a damn still."

"Greg, I swear to God I wasn't drunk last night."

Chuckling and sipping his coffee, Peter made his way over to the row of computers set up against the wall. They were pretty primitive, no holograms but an actual glass display. He hadn't seen that since they landed on some planet that had yet to make contact with the Xandarians. Fortunately this Internet thing wasn't as hard to navigate as the Kree cyber service, which he'd have to have Kraglin crack for him once when Peter had his bounty tripled in Kree space after an incident with a Kree general's daughter that the general had blown completely out of proportion. Hell, the thing on this computer even opened up to something called a search engine. Of course, Peter being the smug self-absorbed asshole (Gamora's words, not his) that he was, he immediately searched his own name.

There were only a few results, but one caught Peter's eye, something from a cold case website. He clicked on it and started to read. 

_Twenty-five Years and Still Holding Out Hope_

_May 15th, 1988, was the worst day in Robert Quill's life. That night, his daughter Meredith passed away from an inoperable brain tumor and her son, Peter Jason Quill, disappeared. Robert contacted the police, but despite their efforts, they could not locate Peter. Now, twenty five years later, Robert has still not given up hope that Peter is out there somewhere. He invited our reporter to visit him, and we found his house filled with pictures of his children and grandchildren._

_He_   _keeps a picture of Meredith and Peter separate, set atop the mantle. It shows a beautiful brunette with an arm around a smiling five year old. Robert spoke briefly about his daughter, "She was always so loving. She loved that boy, even if his father didn't stick around. And he was a bit of a troublemaker, but he was a good boy."_

_Robert has searched for Peter ever since that day in 1988. He still hasn't given up hope. We have included a digitally aged picture of Peter Quill at the end of this article. We ask that our readers look for anyone matching this picture, and contact the tip line that Robert Quill has open._

There was a phone number listed at the bottom of the page, and Quill couldn't help but chuckle at the picture of "him". It looked nothing like him, rather chubby actually. But there was another picture farther up in the little article. His grandpa, standing by his fireplace and looking at the picture of Peter and his mom. Peter pursed his lips, then reached into his pocket, jotting down the phone number on his hand. There was nothing wrong with calling his Gramps and telling him he was still alive. He'd find a payphone after he got groceries, before he made his way back to their campsite.

He hung around the cafe for a bit, before heading out and finding himself in the midst of paradise. There was some new store here called Wal-Mart that was absolute heaven. Quill piled his cart there high with everything he could think of, spices, sweets, ice cream, marshmallows, a gross of Coke and twenty boxes of macaroni and cheese. He also found that movies were apparently on the same type of disc as music now. He grabbed everything he could recognize, Star Wars, the Princess Bride, Indiana Jones, and thinking of Yondu, a copy of Mary Poppins. It took most of the money he'd stolen, but he felt pretty good as he walked out of the store. There had to be some kind of tech on the ship that could read those weird discs, and he could finally show everyone what he had grown up with. But it turned out that finding food was easier than finding a payphone nowadays. Everyone seemed to have these somewhat bulky handheld comm units now, and when he'd asked a lady for a nearby payphone she had looked at him like he was crazy.

"Don't you have a cellphone?" She asked, already hurrying away.

Peter snorted. Did it look like he was carrying around a giant briefcase? It took him a little while to find someone who mentioned that there was an old payphone at the library. He pulled his cart in with him, dug out a couple quarters, and dialed the smudged number on his hand. It rang three times before going to a message machine, his grandfather speaking. "Hello, if you have any information relating to the disappearance of Peter Quill on May 15th, 1988, please leave your name, number and your information and we will get back to you."

There was a beep, Peter took a deep breath, and spoke. "Hi Gramps, it's me. Peter. Sorry I haven't called. Listen, I'm in Ridgeton, out at the lake you and me and mom would go to. I don't know how long I'll be here, a week, maybe? Anyway, I'm calling on a payphone, so I guess if you want, you can just come find me at the lake. So, um, bye." He hung up the phone, turning back to his cart. Even if his grandpa didn't come out, at least he'd know he was alive.

After he had made it back to his stash, he dumped everything into the repulsorlift, and set out on the much longer trip back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured you guys might like a little Monday pick-me-up. Also, I was thinking of starting up a prompt fic, where you could send in prompts to my tumblr, the-cowgirl-bookworm. Let me know what you guys think, and send in any prompts that you think of!


	6. Someday We'll Walk In the Rays of a Beautiful Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, Child, The Five Stairsteps, 1970
> 
> Yondu feels ahead!

The M-Ship slipped out of another jump point, its occupants give a groan as the ship settled down into the planet's atmosphere. So far they'd made twelve jumps, ten to find the second jump point Yondu and Peter had used, and another two to try and figure out the one after that. Mantis collapsed back into her seat, breathing quickly. "Do you think we could stop for a moment?"

Gamora glanced down at her nav display. "For a few minutes, until we try and trace their signal."

Even Drax gave a groan at that. "I agree with Mantis. I am feeling ill."

"I am Groot." Root looked green, well, greener than usual.

Rocket glanced over. "Not you too."

"I am Groot."

Rocket's ears twitched. "He does have a point there."

"What did he even say?" Nebula hissed from her spot behind the cockpit.

"He said that not all of us are cybernetically enhanced and can't take as many jumps in a row." Rocket glanced down at a display, his makeshift tracking program scanning the space around them for any trace of the Eclector. Jump points didn't register ship details, part of why Ravagers loved them so much, but there was a brief disturbance that ships left as they went through. All Rocket had set this program to do was compare the disturbances to the probable time the Eclector came through. Unfortunately the sensors on this M-ship were particular pieces of shit so it took awhile to scan. Rocket tapped the display with a claw, narrowing the focus of the search. "Yeah, I guess we can wait for a bit."

There was a sigh of relief from the back part of the cockpit, along with Drax loudly announcing that he had to void his bowels and was claiming the head. Nebula watched him leave, her robotic hand cleaning around a brace as he walked by her. "Why do you allow that one to travel with you? He's disgusting."

Gamora unbuckled herself. "Drax takes awhile to get used to, but hygiene is not his best suit." The two sisters started to speak quietly, moving further down the hallway.

Mantis scooted closer to Rocket. She pointed at the planet below them, dark eyes taking in the warping pink and yellow gas below them. "Do people live there?"

Rocket looked up. "Nah, gas giant. Think Ragax had a refining facility out here years ago, sucking up the gas."

"It is very pretty."

"It's a big ball of gas."

Mantis smiled. "May I?" Drax had explained that most people did not like their emotions to be aired aloud, although he also thought people who got mad at Mantis for accidentally reading them deserved to be punted out of an airlock. So she reached out a palm, hoping that Rocket would let her touch his paw.

Rocket pinned his ears back, fangs bared. "No, go back to looking at your frickin' ball of gas."

* * *

Sleeping in was something a Ravager captain was not usually allowed. Sure, if your crew was blacked out you could catch a few minutes without worrying that someone was going to come and shove a knife between your ribs, but even then it paid to be on your guard. So Yondu was ready to have his arrow chase Quill off the ship when the boy shook him awake, but upon being told that the boy planned to leave, he merely gave him a few rules and fell back asleep.

Hours later, Yondu finally rolled out of bed, grabbing what had been leftover from dinner last night for breakfast. It took a bit of adjusting, but he was able to hook up the long range antenna to pick up a somewhat scratchy Shi'ar soap opera. Peter had given him shit the first time he saw him, Kraglin and Horuz gathered around the view screen, watching D'keh and R'Lek argue over who was the father of R'Lek's egg. They all knew it was D'Keh's brother Ironwing, but D'Keh seemed convinced that R'Lek had taken up with a servant. Peter had promptly declared that what they were watching was stupid, boring, and for pansies.

His shit talking had earned Peter a three week ban from watching anything at all. By the time the ban had been lifted, the boy was more than glad to join them. It tuns out space was kind of boring when you were puttering around between jobs, staying on the thin edge between the Nova Corps and the Imperium. There was only so much drinking, fighting and fucking a crew could do before even that held no appeal. So most of them had their guilty pleasures they indulged in when they hadn't grabbed a job yet. Yondu would never be able to forget finding out about the underground crochet circle he had found working out of the tailor's room, ten of the toughest Ravagers on the ship knitting together and gossiping. 

There had been a silent understanding that if any of them spoke a word about it they'd find themselves gutted and spaced in short order.

So as far as off time hobbies went, Yondu felt his wasn't that bad. The soap opera ended, switching to some news story from the Imperium. He turned the display off, stretching his arms as he walked down the ramp. He didn't quite understand why Quill had such an intense attachment to this place, but then again the boy had cared for a piece of plastic like it was a child for twenty years. Yondu sat down on a nearby rock, closed his eyes, and reached out.

Years ago, on his way back from a job for Stakar, he'd ran across some ancient storyteller in a backwater bar. The storyteller had spoken about Centaurians, about how they could sense an animal halfway across the planet with their eyes closed, but lost that ability the more sentience a being had. Yondu hadn't believed it, until he tried reaching out when he was on a stakeout because, fuck it, he was curious. He gotten a couple brief impressions, but nothing more than that. Yondu briefly remembered the Kree saying something about how his implant linked him with his arrow, how it gave him more range and more power with it than a normal Centaurian would have.

They'd been talking about that before they sliced his crest off and drilled into his skull.

Maybe losing his crest meant he couldn't sense things he couldn't see, but occasionally he'd get a flash. Like yesterday, he could feel where the fish were and it seemed so simple to guide his arrow to them. Yondu tried to steady his breathing, reaching out. He could feel his prototype fin warm, red light leaking out. There was a slight flash in his mind, a fish getting spooked and swimming to deeper water. He could sense the trees better, but when would he ever need to attack a tree. Little 'ol Twig could barely harm a space rat, let alone turn on him. 

Now his arrow, that he could sense with ease. No matter how far away it was, he always felt it. It was rather comforting to have it close by, something that he could feel without having to concentrate. That ancient storyteller had said Centaurians could alter the path of arrows they fired from their bows, but nothing about not needing a bow at all. Yondu felt that his arrow was more useful without a freaking bow, and why would he want to be like those other Centaurians anyway? He was a badass Ravager captain who nobody fucked with.

He opened his eyes, shook his head, and immediately regretted it. Trying to sense things gave him a splitting headache. He made his way to the lake shore, made sure that his arrow was stashed somewhere near the edge of the lake where he could easily whistle it to him, and dove in. The water was cool, relatively clear, and he dove deeper. He surfaced for air briefly, hearing a crunching from the forest. He sunk down, eyes poking out of the water, along with a good six inches of fin.

Quill was pushing an overloaded repulsorlift back, huffing as he directed it. Yondu couldn't help but grin, the boy had always had eyes bigger than his stomach. A curious fish was swimming up to his feet. Yondu jerked down, grabbed the fish, and then flung it at Quill. It smacked off his head, hit him with its tail, and then flopped all over his boots. Yondu cackled as Peter swore a blue streak.

"I can see you out there! Freakin' wannabe jaws. You're not that sneaky!" Peter yelled out, and Yondu whistled, sending Peter racing away from his arrow.


	7. Southern Nights, Just As Good Even When Closed Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Southern Nights, Glen Campbell, 1977

Robert Quill had stared at his answering machine for fifteen minutes. It was an old bulky system, a relic from the early nineties when he had dedicated this landline to any information on Peter. He'd chased leads for those first few years, criss crossing the country whenever a new call came in. Then the calls had slowed, and it would be months before he'd go out on a lead. Finally, they'd gone from a trickle to nothing at all. He'd tried doing everything he could, using the internet to search missing children databases, trying to find any report of Peter. But after awhile, it had seemed like no one cared. His friends were sympathetic, but more than one of them had told him to give it up. To stop chasing ghosts and focus on his other children, his other grandchildren. But they hadn't been there that night, hadn't seen Meredith at her last or heard Peter's screams.

And now the light on the answering machine was blinking.

He pressed play, listening to the old tape whir into motion. "Hi Gramps, it's me. Peter. Sorry I haven't called. Listen, I'm in Ridgeton, out at the lake you and me and mom would go to. I don't know how long I'll be here, a week, maybe? Anyway, I'm calling on a payphone, so I guess if you want, you can just come find me at the lake. So, um, bye." The machine beeped, the tape stopped and Robert sat back in his chair. He ran a hand over his face, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

His first thought was that it was a fake. Those Internet people could find anything nowadays, and he had posted a lot of pictures when his granddaughter Jessie had taught him how to use Facebook. So maybe one of them saw a picture of the three of them at the lake, dug around online and found the phone number. Maybe they just felt like being a giant piece of scum, taunting a heartbroken old man. He rewound it and listened again, trying to find any trace of the boy he had once known.

"Ah, Pete." He whispered, trying to drown out that tiny bit of hope in his heart. It had to be a fake. It had been what, seven, eight years since anyone had called with any info on Peter? And now, Peter himself is calling. He looked over at a wall, a map of the United States plastered over it. He'd placed a pin at every spot he'd been, tacked newspaper clippings and printouts from online near each one. Robert knew his other children thought it a bit sad, and he always closed the door to the office whenever his family came over. 

Robert left the office, fixing himself dinner. But he couldn't eat. He sat, staring at his sandwich. "Damn." He muttered, grabbing the keys to his ancient Ford. He left them on the answering machine. After all, Ridgeton was only five hours away. He looked out the window at the starry sky, "I'll find him Merry. I promise."

* * *

 "So you put 'em on the stick, then in the fire, and then what?" Yondu stared at the white pillow Quill had crammed onto a green stick.

"Then you put the marshmallow on the graham cracker, put chocolate on the other one, and then you put them together." Peter had crammed three onto his stick, holding it over the campfire. Yondu raised an eyebrow, but let his stick rest over the flames. The marshmallow started to brown, its skin wrinkling. The heat of the fire felt good after his swim, but not quite as good as hitting Quill with a fish.

Peter looked at him over the flames. "Did you like what I got you?"

Yondu merely grunted, unwilling to admit that the tiny little predator was going to join Quill's troll doll on Yondu's 'Touch These and I Will Send My Arrow Straight Up Your Ass, Slowly' shelf. He lifted his marshmallow out, flipping it. "You must a hit five different stores. Think they'll be sendin' out a posse?"

"What, like that time you almost traded me away for a job on Gyuna?" Peter laughed, remembering how Yondu had shoved the boy towards the mob chasing them, mumbling something about 'providin' a distraction while I get the hell outta here'. Quill had run for a bit, before Yondu's M-Ship had come flying over and sucked him back up before blasting away. "Nah, I only robbed one joint."

"You bought some a this?"

"Well yeah," Peter smiled, "But the money I stole."

Yondu laughed at that, gold teeth flashing in the firelight. "That's my boy." He then looked down. "Your stick's on fire."

Quill cursed, waving his stick around and leaving afterimages in Yondu's eyes. Peter blew out the last of the flames, "That's fine. They take better burned."

Yondu rolled his eyes, sliding his marshmallow off his stick and onto one of the graham crackers Peter had set out. He put a piece of chocolate on another one, then put them together. He knew Quill was watching as he bit into the makeshift sandwich. Yondu made it a point to grimace and gag it down. 

Peter looked ready to jump over the fire. "Well, how was it?"

Yondu knocked crumbs from his shirt. "Tolerable."

"Hah! That means you really like it!" Quill fist pumped, then proceeded to shove his massive stack of s'mores down his throat. Yondu knew the kid had a bottomless pit for a stomach, but it was still impressive how much food Peter could put away. Yondu settled back against a tree trunk the two of them had shoved up near the fire, stretching out. He dug his beer can into the ground, this Terran brew tasted like Chitauri blood, he could thank Stakar for knowing what that tasted like, but it could get him buzzed. Quill was already laid out on the ground, a hand clutching his slightly distended stomach as if he was carrying a child instead of twenty of those s'mores.

Peter thunked his head back against the trunk, looking up at the sky. "My mom and I used to stay up and look at the stars when we came out here." He brought a hand up, tracing some pattern. "She knew a bunch of the constellations, and knew the stories too."

"The hell is a constellation?" Yondu asked, raising his eyes. 

"Patterns in the stars. My mom said sailors used them to navigate. Like there!" Peter traced a shape, pointing out the stars. "The Big Dipper, it points to the north star. Which is, there!" He pointed to a brighter star. "We'd talk about what was out there, my mom always said that my father came from them and was going to come back one day."

"Boy, you've been to most of those stars." Yondu chuckled. "Ya know most of the things out there are meaner than shit."

"Including my father." Peter laughed.

Yondu held his beer up. "Fuck that ol' bastard."

Quill crashed his can against Yondu's. "Fuck 'em. Right, Dad?"

Yondu drained his beer, crunched his can against the trunk and looked at Quill. "I'm gonna need another if you gonna keep callin' me Dad."

Peter apparently didn't catch on to his grouchy demeanor, because he sidled up to Yondu. "Mom woulda liked you."

"Your momma woulda taken one look at my ugly face and passed out." Yondu bit his lip, but threw an arm around Peter's shoulders. "Whatta you humans think your dead do?"

"Well, they're all up in Heaven, watching us. Clouds, angels."

"Nah boy, your mother's walking through the stars." Yondu tipped his head back. "She musta been bad enough to be a Ravager if she gave birth to you and put up with you for eight years."

"Hi mom." Quill slurred, his head slumping against Yondu's shoulder. He started snoring a few minutes later.

Yondu gazed at the stars, trying to find the patterns Peter described. "You know, the least that dickhead Ego could have done was put your face in the stars if he loved you as much as Quill said you loved him." Yondu glanced down at the young man pillowing his head on his shoulder. "You don't gotta worry 'bout him, though. He's doin' fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I just wrote the fluffiest thing I could.


	8. Lonely Is The Night, When There's No One Left To Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lonely is the Night, Billy Squier, 1981

Fishing was the dumbest, most boring, and just plain stupidest thing that Yondu had ever done. He and Quill were standing knee deep in the lake, fishing poles held out over the water, the hooks a good two hundred feet away. They were both stripped to the waist, their pants rolled up to keep them out of the water. Occasionally Quill would reel in his line a bit, twitching it from side to side.

They'd been standing here for at least two hours.

Yondu shifted his pole to his other hand, opening and closing the one that had been holding the rod for the past hour. "Quill, I don't think the fish are too interested in whatever those squirmin' things were."

Peter was staring out at the lake. "Hold on, it takes awhile. I think I might have one."

"If ya want fish that badly, I'll just use my arrow again." Yondu grumbled, reeling his line in about fifty feet. "It's a hell of a lot quicker than this."

"That's not how you do it." Peter muttered, then suddenly shot straight up. "I got one!" He let the line go for a bit, then started reeling it in. Yondu watched as he repeated the cycle, letting the line out and pulling it in. Peter was grinning like an idiot. "I think it's a big one!"

Yondu felt his own line jump too. He started reeling it in as fast as he could. "We'll see whose is bigger!" He tried to copy Quill, who was apparently tiring the fish out. Yondu couldn't figure out why he wanted to tire out something that weighed, at most, ten pounds

With a victorious yell, Peter held up his prize. The fish, squirming in the air, probably weighed about five pounds. He seemed overly happy about it though, unhooking it and holding it but he tail as Yondu tried to reel in his catch. It took about ten minutes before Yondu could reach down and pull up his fish. It was longer than Quill's, but thinner. Considering it, Yondu turned to Quill. "I think I win."

"What? Mine's totally bigger than your's."

"Mine's longer."

"So? Length doesn't matter as much as weight."

"Is that what yer A'askavariian girl said?" Yondu called back as he took both of their fish to the ice chest Quill had set up.

Quill turned red. "That was an info job and you know it."

"The way it was passed 'round the ship you were tryin' to arrange a night with both of them, your Kree girl and tentacle lady. All three of you snug in a bunk."

"Shut up." Peter grumbled as Yondu made his way back out. "Double or nothing, loser has to take the late night shifts for a week."

"Yer on boy, pass me more of those worms."

* * *

Robert Quill parked his truck on the side of the main road, slipping a few coins into the parking meter. Armed with only a copy of the digitally aged picture, he made his way into town. He hadn't searched for Peter for years, at least not going door to door. He found the best place to start was stores, people new to town would always stop by, needing something. So he went from store to store, asking if they had seen his grandson.

The only store that had seen him was Wal-mart, a young cashier looking at the picture. She tapped it, looking closer. "Yeah, I think he came through. Skinnier though. Pushing a couple carts. Paid with cash, which was odd. Haven't seen anyone carrying that much cash in a while, most people just use the card."

Robert furrowed his brow. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No, but he had a coffee cup in his cart, from the place over on Jefferson street. Maybe someone there knows?" She handed the picture back. Robert folded it back up, tucking it in his pocket. Jefferson street was only a couple blocks away, an internet cafe on the corner. He showed the picture to the barista, who couldn't seem to care less.

Bored, he barely glanced at the picture. "I don't know. I wasn't working yesterday. Ask Greg over there. He and Jerry come in every morning." He indicated a couple of older men, dressed in the typical farmer wear, jeans, buttoned down shirts, ball caps and boots.

Robert stepped over. "Excuse me, have you seen this man?" He extended the picture.

The two of them considered it. One brushed his fingers against the bill of his cap. "I think so. Think he was in here yesterday, sat down over there." He pointed to one of the computers. "Couldn't tell ya much, only saw him as he walked by."

"Thank you." Robert made his way over to the computer. Maybe Peter had searched where he was staying. But there was nothing. He turned back to the barista. "Did you clear the history?"

"Yeah, we had to after somebody started looking up porn last year."

The other man at the table turned around. "You lookin' for those aliens too?"

"Jesus, Jerry."

"I ain't lying. There's somethin' over at the lake. I'm gonna take my gun out tomorrow and go lookin'."

"Jerry, I'm taking you to church tomorrow. Maybe Father Tyler can clear out whatever's wrong with your head."

Robert left the two men to their bickering, making his way back to his truck. He drove over to the parking lot where campers would drop their cars before hiking out into the woods, or farther out to the lake. He slipped his keys into his pocket, setting out on the hike to the lake. It hadn't been easy when he was younger, and he had to stop several times to get his breath back. The woods had always been something Merry had enjoyed, she'd run trails into these woods when she was little. She always came back with something new, berries, a lizard, a pretty flower. One time she brought back some poison ivy, and he'd had to teach her how to identify it while Sarah covered her hands with calamine lotion.

Then when they'd brought Peter out here it turned out the boy had enjoyed the place just as much as his mother. He'd learned to swim in that lake, almost broke his arm falling from a tree, and sang himself hoarse around the campfire. Robert smiled, remembering the times they'd spent out here. He could see the lake shore up ahead, and he stepped through the tree cover to the edge of the water.

There were two people standing in the water, fishing. Robert looked closer at the white one. "Pete?"

The only reply was a whistle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's a short chapter, but really I just want to thank you all for your kind comments, and let you know that this fic is probably going to wind up being about 15 chapters, but that I'm going to start a series to follow it!


	9. I'm Busting Up My Brains For The Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moonage Daydream, David Bowie, 1972
> 
> This chapter's pretty dialogue heavy.

Peter tackled Yondu, both of them sliding beneath the water. It was a jumble of legs and more than one shove before they had untangled themselves. Quill popped back up first, scanning the shore. Fortunately he could still see his Grandpa standing, the arrow a mere inch from his throat. He gave Yondu a kick. "Dude, what the hell?"

Yondu spluttered, spitting out a mouthful of lake water. "What? You never had a problem with me guttin' people before."

"That's my Grandpa!"

"And how the hell was I s'posed to know that?" Yondu squinted towards the shore. "Damn, he's still standin'. Must be losin' my touch."

"Jesus." Quill shook his head. "I'm going over, and no more sending arrows at him!" He started wading over, doing his best to examine his Grandpa as he made his way over. Gramps looked pretty much the same, hair was a little more gray, face had a few more lines, but Peter could still recognize him. He heard a whistle behind him, saw his Grandpa cringe, and the arrow start twirling around his head. Quill glared back at Yondu, who was carrying the fishing poles back in and wearing an innocent look on his face. "Asshole."

"Ain't killin' him." Yondu shot back.

Peter stepped out of the lake, shaking off the worst of the water. He could already feel the dirt sticking to his feet. He watched his Grandpa's eyes tracking Yondu's arrow. Quill stepped forward. "Gramps?"

"Pete, that really you?" His grandfather sounded hoarse, more than likely still terrified that he was about to be impaled.

"Yeah." Peter smiled, "Sorry about that, somebody feels a little sadistic today."

"Fuck off, boy." Yondu shouted from over by the ship.

"What is that?" Robert asked, craning to get a better look.

"Oh, that's just Yondu. He's kind of my dad." Peter stepped farther in, the arrow shooting back to Yondu as he grabbed his Grandpa's hand, pulling him towards the ship.

"What was he saying?" The old man's steps were a little hesitant.

"You didn't ..." Peter trailed off, then smacked himself. "Oh right! Translator chip." He cupped a hand around his mouth. "Yondu! We got any translator chips?"

Yondu glanced over. "Might, go look for 'em."

Peter frowned. "No, you do it."

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't trust you not to kill him while I find them." Peter growled, pulling his Grandpa closer to the camp. Sneering, Yondu walked up into the ship, muttering a few choice words about uppity Terrans. 

"Pete, what's going on here?" Robert made his way to a rock, sitting down. "Where were you? Who is that? What is that? What happened?"

Quill sat down across from him. "Well, that's Yondu. He was came to pick me up. Wound up raising me."

"Where?"

"Space!" Peter couldn't help the grin on his face. "It's awesome! Spaceships, aliens, I gotta take you up sometime Gramps."

"Pete, if he's your father, why aren't you blue?"

"Well, I mean," Quill shrugged. "He was hired by my actual father, who was a grade A asshole, but Yondu ditched out and kept me."

"So your father," Gramps blinked. "Merry wasn't crazy?"

"Nah, but I highly question her taste in men, 'cause that guy was an ass." Yondu replied, coming out from the ship, a Nova Corps issued syringe in his hand. He tossed it to Quill. "Here kid, you getta stick 'im."

"Gee, thanks." Peter said, catching the syringe and checking to make sure that the translator chip was still in place. Sure enough, it was sitting in the sterile liquid that preserved it, ready to be inserted. He got up, moving over behind his Grandpa. "Sorry Gramps, got to stick you really quick."

Robert almost fell as he got off the rock, stumbling away. "What?"

"Universal translator, goes in your neck." Peter approached him again.

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't want to be a translator." Quill turned around, a finger pointing to his spine. "Look, I got one. Doesn't even hurt." Robert had apparently decided it was alright, or was frozen with fear when Yondu pursed his lips to whistle, because he only flinched when Quill pressed the point to his neck, the chip slipping under his skin. Peter wasn't quite sure how exactly these chips worked, something about nanotech receiving sound signals and translating them into something understandable. To be completely honest, Kraglin had explained it and Peter had been more concerned with watching a nebula slide by outside an M-ship. Quill looked over to Yondu. "Say something so we know if it works."

Yondu was leaning against a strut on the ramp. "How 'bout you better start explainin' what the hell is goin' on."

Robert dropped down to the ground, goggling at Yondu. 

"You sure he ain't dyin', Quill?" Yondu looked over at the older man. "I didn't think you Terrans could get that gray."

"Ah, Gramps is tough." Peter smiled. "Right?"

Robert nodded hesitantly, his mouth closing. 

"Maybe you'd better start at the beginnin'." Yondu commented, sitting down on the rock Robert had vacated. 

"Yeah, I'm starting to think so." Quill said, sitting down by Robert. He started to go over what had happened, starting when he ran out of the hospital. Peter glossed over some of what had happened with the Ravagers over the years, like when Yondu had presented him with a high priced android hooker for his eighteenth birthday, saying that everything had been paid for and he was going to have two full days of leave. Yondu occasionally interjected, usually when Quill was getting to the good part of the story.

"Boy didn't take out the whole armada by himself, had to get him out of the standoff myself."

"Don't lie to yer kin Quill, you was ten when that happened, almost blew our cover."

Yondu finally shut up when Quill got to Morag, although he did rub his eyes and mutter "four billion units" about ten times as Quill related how he had met the other Guardians and the fight against Ronan. He almost seemed to actively listen about their various misadventures in the galaxy, finally ending on their assault on Ego, the massive party in the aftermath, and their impromptu trip to Terra.

Robert finally seemed to be able to speak. "So, you were abducted by pirates, because your father, a planet, paid them to. And you came back here, to go fishing."

"Listen, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, everything I just said happened." Peter stood. "What d'ya think Gramps?"

Robert stood, then embraced Peter. "I'm just glad to have you back, son."

Peter hugged the old man back, then shot daggers at Yondu as the Centaurian pretended to gag.


	10. The Man In The Back Is Ready To Crack, As He Raises His Hands To The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu broods and the rest of the Guardians get closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ballroom Blitz, The Sweet, 1974

Yondu did not like Quill's grandfather.

Sure, he was glad the boy found his kin. And yeah, it was probably good for him to let the old guy know he was still alive. But the grandsire kept hanging around too close to Peter. Maybe it was the Ravager in him, the need for personal space to either draw your gun or cock your fist, but he didn't like the way Quill's grandfather followed him. Even if Quill was just going out to the trees to find more wood, his grandfather followed.

Which meant Yondu was currently sitting by the fire, glaring at the two of them walking back, laughing as they dropped off the wood. He had been poking the fire with a stick, stirring the coals in the bottom. He didn't really care when the stick burned up, throwing it on top of the fire. Yondu listened to the two of them bang around the kitchen on the ship, the elder Quill was making something called a fish fry. Peter seemed to be excited about it, hefting the freshly gutted fish up and hauling them into the ship.

And what exactly was wrong with roasting the fish over the fire? Yondu may not have been a trained cook, but he felt his roasted fish was damn good. And Quill had seemed pretty pleased with cooking over the campfire, making those s'mores. So while Quill and his grandfather worked in the kitchen, Yondu sat by the fire. He wasn't moping. He was a Ravager captain and if anyone said he was moping, even Quill, he'd let them get a taste of his arrow. As in, he'd send it through their skull mouth first.

The flames were dying down, so Yondu grabbed a piece of wood and tossed it on. It sent up a shower of sparks, the flames quickly jumping onto the log. Yondu took a swig of beer, glaring towards the kitchen where he could hear them laughing and something frying. And it most definitely did not smell good, even if his stomach did growl. So Yondu spat into the fire, then took a swig of his beer. 

He turned, hearing Quill coming down the ramp. "You finally finish with that shit?"

"Yeah, here." Quill held out a plate, heaped with pieces of fried fish and some kind of small salad. "Gramps used his old recipe for the coleslaw. You'll like it."

Yondu grabbed the plate, turning back to the fire. He started to nibble on the fish, which absolutely did not taste good. It certainly wasn't crunchy and spicy, and the coleslaw didn't have a nice little bite to it.

Peter stood there, hands shoved into his pockets. "You gonna come in?"

"Nah boy," Yondu hunched up his shoulders. "You head back in."

Of course, the kid was stubborn as hell and sat down next to Yondu. "Are you upset about something?"

"No." Yondu stuffed another piece of the fish in his mouth, grabbing a bit of coleslaw in his hands to shove in after.

"You know, you could talk to my Grandpa."

"An' say what, 'Sorry for kidnappin' yer grandkid?'"

"Kind of." Peter stood up, raking a hand through his hair. "Apologizing for that wouldn't be a bad start!"

Finishing the last of the fried fish, Yondu tossed the plate onto the ground. "He ain't my kin."

"You don't have to be so stubborn! I just want you guys to get along."

Yondu grabbed another beer, then swung his jacket up over his shoulders. "Quill, you been a pain in my ass since I picked ya up. And yer bein' one now." Yondu looked out at the woods, starting off for someplace quiet and far away from the camp.

"You're leaving?" Quill called out from by the fire.

"Go gush wit' yer granddad. I'll be back in the mornin'."

* * *

Kraglin looked out at what had to be the fifteenth different planet they'd been to that day. He banged his head back against a window. "How long does it take to track one ship?"

Nebula shifted in her seat. "I agree. This has gone past the point of ridiculous." She glared at the rest of them from her corner. "We should abandon them."

"Calm down, I'm sure Rocket is close to finding them." Gamora tried to placate the surly group. "Right?"

"Yeah, only five more jumps. No time at all." Rocket snarked from the chair he'd barely left. He looked down at the display, tapping through a series of alerts. "Actually, look." He swiped a claw across the screen, sending what he as looking at to the other displays in the ship.

Drax stared at the readout. "I see lines."

"The signal strength has increased." Nebula flicked the readout away. "We're close."

"Yeah, like at the same planet close." Rocket quickly flicked the pilot controls to his chair, swinging the ship around and accelerating. The M-Ship slipped around the planet, Rocket's signal sensor displaying an ever increasing signal across his data pad.

It was getting to be annoying when Kraglin pointed out the window. "Look!"

The Eclector was in orbit over the planet, sitting patiently above the atmosphere. Rocket directed the M-Ship closer. "You got the entrance codes?"

"Yeah, let me transmit them." Kraglin fumbled with his display for a moment, and felt the M-Ship slip into autopilot as it guided itself into the hanger on the Eclector. The atmospheric shield shivered as the ship passed through, heading for a docking mechanism. The hanger only had a few berths for smaller ships, and the full size M-Ship they were on took up almost two of them. There were a few hisses as the airlock disengaged, the pressure normalizing between the two ships.

The Guardians weren't slow to leave the M-Ship, spilling out onto the gangways and heading for the living quarters.

Gamora stretched her arms over her head, glad to be away from the various smells and stenches that had accumulated on the M-Ship. "Peter?"

"Hey Quill, get out here so I can kick your ass." Rocket called, scampering down a hallway. "Made me search through half the freaking galaxy, it's either an ass kicking or Drax's turds, Quill!"

Mantis walked behind Drax, opening random doors. She stuck her head inside one. "Peter?"

Nebula stalked by, robotic hand twitching against the metal walls. "That is a closet."

"Oh." Mantis closed it, following her. "What is a closet?


	11. One Way or Another, I'm Gonna Find Ya, I'm Gonna Get Ya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Way or Another, Blondie, 1978
> 
> We're headed out on vacation so I tried to make this a little longer to tide you over while I'm gone!

The Guardians had gathered around the mess table, thoroughly pissed off. Not only were Peter and Yondu not here, not only was there no clue about where they had gone from here, there wasn't any food which meant they'd be stuck with the nasty ration bars that they'd been ignoring back on the M-Ship, preferring their fresh supplies until they had run out last night, leaving them only the ration bars, designed to give every compatible species their daily requirements of vitamins and nutrients, but taste like shit while they did. Nebula's face was pinched as she munched on one. "We could always abandon them."

"I agree with the blue bitch." Rocket said from where he was sitting on the table, fiddling with a disassembled sensor. "At this point, Quill and Yondu can go fuck themselves."

"No, we are a team." Gamora shot back, "Even if they have acted extremely irresponsibly."

Kraglin was currently on the bridge, trying to find some tracking program that the ship had to keep track of the smaller vessels it carried. Of course, Kraglin had never really run this program as the first mate back when the Eclector had been whole so he wasn't having that much luck. He could still hear them though, "It's goddamn idiotic is what it is."

"Could they have gone down to the planet?" Mantis asked, her large eyes sweeping over the table. "This is Peter's homeworld, is it not?"

This gave a brief pause to the group, until Drax spoke up. "If that is Peter's homeworld, should we not examine the moon? Peter often mentioned that it is made of cheese, perhaps they went to eat it since they were out of food."

Rocket shook his head. "Damn it, Drax."

Aside from the living quarters, the bridge, the hanger and the small mess, there really wasn't much to what remained of Eclector. Which meant they didn't have anything to do while they waited for Kraglin and Rocket to try and get the Ravager tracking program back up and working, which was as likely as Thanos appearing with Peter and Yondu in tow, all of them dressed in grass skirts. Seeing that the two of them would be at it for the next millennia, Gamora racked her brain to try and find something for the rest of them to focus on. It had been hard enough keeping Nebula from ripping their heads off the last few days while they searched from jump point to jump point. Which meant she was currently listening to Drax telling Mantis some story about a cybernetically advanced bovine that had somehow managed to leap over the moon, that now also contained a man inside of it.

An idea struck her right then. "Drax, grab a couple space suits and go back to the ship."

"Why?" Mantis blinked, which was somewhat disconcerting when eighty percent of her eyes were pupils. "Should we not wait here until we have managed to find Peter?"

"They'll be at it for a long time." Gamora said. "Might as well go see this moon that Peter always went on about. He said his country put a flag on it."

"Why would they put a flag on a moon?" Drax furrowed his brow. "There is no air to blow it."

Gamora ignored him since he was actually starting to move, returning to the bridge. Nebula had joined the group there, her data banks apparently recognizing this style of programming and processing any fixes that were needed. Groot was sitting in Kraglin's lap, his hands currently vines that waved through the holographic text as it appeared. Gamora looked at all three of them. "We are going to the moon while you finish this. Drax may be right, Peter and Yondu may be there."

Rocket barely glanced up from his console. "Great, go have fun on a big, empty hunk of rock. If Drax tries to eat it, I want full details."

* * *

Yondu didn't exactly have a plan when he stalked away from the fire. He just wanted to get away from all the sentimental bullshit that was going on, how the geezer had looked like he was going to break down in tears for the forty-fifth time that day and how Quill barely even gave him a glance while puttering around with that old bastard.

He'd spent the night up in a tree, which in terms of places he'd spent a night, hadn't been the worst. Maybe he'd nodded off once on a stakeout, wedged behind a statue while he waited for his mark to come around. And again, while Kraglin was off with Peter, drinking themselves into a stupor. Yondu jumped down from the wide branch he'd been sleeping on. Least these Terran trees were huge and strong enough to support him.

Not that there was much beyond those trees. Just trees, trees, and more fucking trees. He could always head back to the camp, but fuck him if he wanted to be around those two. So Yondu just kept wandering, muttering to himself occassionally about how much he was going to kick Quill's ass the next time the boy presented an opportunity.

_Crack!_

Yondu whipped around, lips pursed and crouched down low. There was nothing around him, but he heard another crack. He scuttled for some cover, sinking down into the brush. He waited, drawing deep breaths in case he would need to whistle. The source of the cracking branches came into view, and Yondu sunk down further. It was a hunter, dressed in a mish mash of camouflage and flannel. Yondu watched as the man swung his shotgun around, twitching at every noise.

"Damn aliens, I know they're here." The hunter muttered before walking out of Yondu's line of sight. "Where are you, you sons of bitches?"

Yondu would have popped up and said 'Right here!' but he knew the man would blast his head off in an instant. So instead he crept after the man, sticking to the loose dirt and loam that absorbed the sound of his feet. After all, it would be so much more fun to fuck with the man from a distance. He let the man walk ahead, then gave a low whistle. His arrow moved slowly, but it was still quick enough to blast through a tree limb and send it crashing down.

It came down in a rush of splinters and leaves, and all the birds around took off. Yondu heard a burst of gunfire, but it didn't hit anywhere close to him. Silence followed, only broken by the hunter's mutterings. "What the fuck, fuck, fuck." Yondu could hear the man panting. The hunter's voice rose. "Show yourselves! I know you're there!"

Yondu wheezed out a laugh, then started to pick his way after the hunter. They continued in this vein for a little while, Yondu letting the man slip ahead before sending something crashing to the ground. He sent a boulder into the hunter's path, stirred up a leaf storm, whistled so high that Terran ears couldn't pick it up and his arrow went by the man in a rush of wind and heat. That kept him laughing for five minutes, until he sent his arrow zinging towards the hunter, piercing the cuff of his pants and send the man face first into a stream.

So far, pretty good way to spend a morning.

* * *

Peter had barely touched the chocolate chip pancakes his grandfather had made, preferring to keep looking at the entryway to the kitchen. Yondu should have been back hours ago, tore him a new one, and then gone back to glaring at Robert. But he wasn't here. Peter had expected him to kick him awake this morning, but Gramps had let him sleep in and whipped up pancakes with brown sugar and whipped cream. He'd even managed to fry some bacon.

But even bacon couldn't keep Peter from worrying.

"I'm just nervous Gramps." He mumbled when his grandfather told him to eat his food before it got cold. "He said he'd be back by morning."

"Peter, he's a grown man, or whatever he is." Robert replied, shoving a few more pieces of bacon at him.

"But he said he'd be back by morning." Peter picked up a piece of bacon, crispy and salty and oh so good. He swallowed it in three bites. "I'm gonna go look for him."

"Finish your breakfast." Robert said, turning back to the stove. Peter grumbled, but cleaned his plate. Of course, he now felt overfull and slow. So it took him a little time before he felt like he could move without throwing up. But he still headed out, even as his Grandpa tried to dissuade him. "Peter, I'm sure he's fine. He's probably kicking puppies or something. He'll be back before you know it."

Peter couldn't help but glare over his shoulder. "I'm going. He's probably not far. See you when we're back." He hunched his shoulders up as he made his way into the woods. He loved his Grandpa, but sometimes the guy was a little clingy. Not to mention how he'd done nothing but talk about Peter's cousins and how they all got together for holidays, and wouldn't it be great now that Peter can join them? So Peter was glad to get to the relative quiet of the woods, smirking when he caught sight of a raccoon sleeping up in a tree. He wished he could take a picture and show Rocket. Of course he'd doodle all over it before handing it over.

Quill jumped down from a rise, landing in a pile of crunching leaves. He kicked a bunch up, singing under his breath. He made his way deeper into the forest, keeping an eye out for red leather and blue skin. He also kept an ear out for any mumbled curses or whistling. 

_Bwam!_

Peter blinked. That was a shotgun, he was positive. He'd gone dove hunting as a kid and that was definitely shot gun. He took off at a jog, headed for the noise. His only thought was _please God, don't let that have been Yondu._ He slid down a hill, heard another blast, and took off to his right. He barely paid attention to branches that whipped against his head, pushing past them. Peter saw someone moving through the brush, and barely thinking, leapt at them.

The two of them fell down, and Peter wheezed when something the other person was carrying crashed into his ribs. Peter searched for any hint of Yondu, but this person was another human and was currently very pissed off. He wasn't very gentle about getting untangled from Peter, giving him a kick in the stomach and a punch across the jaw while Peter was trying to scramble away. It wasn't the worst thing and he tried to get to his feet.

No, the worst thing was the shot gun currently being pointed at him at point blank range.


End file.
